


coming up for air

by dancingonmoonbeams



Series: Seashells and Stars [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Finnick Odair Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingonmoonbeams/pseuds/dancingonmoonbeams
Summary: Having spent so much of her life haunted by her past and worried the present would slip away, Annie Cresta starts to look to the future. When Katniss and Peeta visit District Four, Annie finds herself in a surprising position - giving advice.
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Series: Seashells and Stars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984061
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	coming up for air

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y’all! This is a companion to my multi-chapter fic, [we were meant to stay afloat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25922986/chapters/63004798). This is Annie’s point of view for Chapter 11 and also turned into a bit of a character study. It will probably make sense as a standalone if you haven’t read the other fic. It’s a Finnick Lives AU where he survives the war and he and Annie move back to District Four to raise their baby. 
> 
> Title is from "coming up for air" by MisterWives.

The first rays of dawn slip through the crack in the curtains and Annie watches the sliver of soft golden light illuminate Finnick’s silhouette. She reaches out and floats her hand over his face where the light touches, tracing his lips, his nose, his eyelids that flutter in sleep, and the one bronze curl that sticks to his forehead. She loves watching him sleep. He's more vulnerable in sleep and she feels an overwhelming urge to protect him, to make sure he’s safe to be this version of himself.

She knows she’s the only one who has ever seen him like this - when he used to go to the Capitol, he wouldn’t let himself sleep. He’d take pills to stay awake, anything to avoid letting his guard down in some stranger’s bed, then come home wired and strung out with dark circles showing through the makeup under his eyes. He’d slept so deeply the first night they spent together that she kept putting her hand in front of his lips to make sure he was still breathing. 

She’s learned to read his dreams over the years, can tell where his mind takes him based on the way his jaw clenches, or the way his legs tangle in the sheets, or the way he catches his breath. Right now he's peaceful, breathing slowly through parted lips, no nightmares strangling him. She used to wish she could freeze these moments, could somehow slow the rising of the sun and give him more time to stay this way, where it’s just the two of them, no one trying to pull him away or make him be someone he’s not.

He never told her what Snow made him do when he went to the Capitol. She figured it out, noticed the way he shrunk in on himself when the letters came and the way he kept his distance after he returned, flinching when she got too close. She learned to read his moods, understanding when he needed a gentle hand and when he needed her to simply sit with him, not touching but staying by his side. It suddenly made sense to her why he tiptoed around her, why he’d never tried to touch her or kiss her. Her heart breaks every time she thinks of how this boy with the most beautiful heart was made to feel he didn’t deserve for someone to love and care for him the way he cared for everyone else. 

Later he admitted that he didn’t want to tell her about the Capitol because he was afraid she would see him differently, afraid something like that was enough to make her run. She told him nothing would make her run, but she could tell he didn’t believe her. She resolved then and there to spend every day proving to him that she would always stay. 

Looking at him now, her heart swells knowing they have their entire future stretched ahead of them, an entire lifetime for her to show him how much she loves him, how special he is, and how important he is to her. She loves watching him with their son, feels a flutter in her heart every time she sees them together. They haven’t talked about it yet, but she already wants another baby, wants a big happy family with the two of them at the center. She’s gradually getting used to letting herself want things - having dreams for the future instead of living one day to the next.

On the day her name was called at the reaping, Annie had accepted that her life would never be the same, if she even made it out of the arena. She sat on the train to the Capitol and watched District Four fade away, her sister’s goodbye echoing in her ears.

“You’re smart,” she had said urgently, “you can outsmart them.” Fiona yanked her into a hug then and Annie could feel her shaking. “I need you,” she whispered fiercely as the Peacekeepers came to take Annie to the train. Despite her sister’s encouragement, Annie had never expected to survive. Finnick seemed more dedicated to her survival than she was, though Annie knows now that he was clinging to the idea of bringing her home to somehow balance the guilt he felt about losing his brother. When they returned home she felt ashamed that he worked so hard to keep her alive, and here she was wishing she’d let the water pull her under.

After the arena, she got used to living one day at a time, and when things were really bad, one minute at a time. She didn’t think about the future, so haunted by the past that there was hardly room for anything else. Being around Finnick helped, somehow. They didn’t speak but his presence grounded her, chased away the sound of waterlogged screams that filled her head and made it hard to breathe. It was hardest at night, when she was alone in the dark with no one to pull her out of the paralyzing nightmares. She once considered asking Finnick to stay with her at night but stopped herself, thinking his pity for her only extended in the daytime hours. 

In the weeks after the Games she pushed herself to go back to the water, convinced that if she could just touch the ocean she would realize it wasn’t the same as the arena, it was still the same ocean she and Fiona played in when they were kids, where she could spend hours floating and looking up at the sky. Each day she got closer, letting the salt air fill her lungs, replacing the memory of the cold, vaguely chemical smell of the arena. When she finally reached the water and let the waves wash over her toes, she felt her mind clear for the first time in weeks, as if the waves were returning the pieces of herself she thought she had left behind. 

It got easier from there. She started opening up to Finnick, tentatively telling him stories and asking about his life. They walked along the beach and collected seashells that she used to decorate her new house in the Victors Village, little reminders she could hold on to when she felt the world slipping away. One night when the nightmares were particularly bad, she climbed out of bed and tiptoed out the door of her house, careful not to wake Fiona. Her breath came in sharp gasps as she walked down the lane, her arms wrapped around herself to try and keep warm. She got to the beach and sat down on the sand, trying to calm her breathing and shake the image of Cillian’s head rolling to the side, the feel of his blood coating her hands, the taste of it in her mouth as she screamed. That’s when she felt someone next to her and turned, still half-convinced she was in the arena, and saw Finnick sit next to her and wordlessly hand her a blanket. 

“I saw you leave your house,” he said quietly, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders when she didn’t move to take it. “I don’t sleep much,” he added, looking out over the water.

Annie watched him, dazed, noticing the way the moon reflected the pain in his eyes. The surprise of his appearance brought her out of her nightmare and they sat on the sand together, watching the ocean move in the darkness until the sound of the waves brought her back to herself. After that, it became a habit to knock on his door when she couldn’t sleep at night and they would walk to the beach and sit under the stars together. He would tell her about learning to navigate his father’s sailboat following only the stars and the moon and she told him about legends about the contellations, monsters and heroes whose stories are forever burning in the sky. While he looked up, mapping a course through the stars, she studied his face, so open and unguarded in the moonlight in a way it never was in the light of day.

Even now, she can’t pinpoint when she fell in love with Finnick. Her feelings for him seem as natural as breathing, as sure as the movement of the tides. She knows it started with those nights when they could both let their guards down under the soft glow of the moon.

Finnick stirs, pulling Annie from her thoughts as she watches him open his eyes and gaze at her sleepily. She gently touches his cheek and he turns his head to kiss her palm, letting out a content sigh.

“Good morning,” he whispers, smiling softly. Annie feels her breath catch in her chest the way it always does when she sees him smile.

“Hi,” she says quietly, giggling when his face twists in a yawn. 

“He’s still asleep?” Finnick asks, nodding his head toward the nursery across the hall.

“Mmhm,” Annie nods. Sometimes she’ll tiptoe into the nursery to watch their son sleep, careful not to wake him but wanting to be close to him as much as possible. It’s still hard for her to believe that he’s real, that she gets to raise a child with Finnick and see him grow every day, taking on characteristics of his father and filling Annie with so much more love and joy than she ever thought possible. Finnick raises his eyebrows and brushes a strand of Annie’s hair behind her ear, then moves suddenly to hover over her, pressing kisses to her face as she laughs and feels a blush fill her cheeks. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she says fondly, clasping her hands behind his neck. 

“You love me,” he retorts, leaning down to kiss her. She laughs into the kiss, almost giddy that he is free to be this version of himself, the playful, loving, kind-hearted man she’s always loved, the person he had to put aside in order to survive the Capitol. 

They hear a cry from across the hall and Annie chuckles. “Someone heard us,” she giggles.

Finnick laughs and leans down to kiss her again before pushing himself off the bed and moving to the door, following the sound of the baby’s cries. Annie sits up and leans against the pillows, smiling to herself as she hears Adrian’s cries stop almost instantly when Finnick greets him, replaced by excited babble as she imagines Finnick lifting him from his crib. 

“Where’s Mama?” She hears Finnick ask in a soft singsong voice. “Is she in here?” Finnick appears in the doorway, bouncing their son in his arms. She beams at them, her heart fluttering as the sight of their son in Finnick’s arms, looking so much like him already. Finnick grins and swoops over to the bed, placing Adrian in her lap and flopping down next to them. 

“Hello my sweet boy,” Annie gushes, holding the baby close to her and kissing the top of his head as he reaches his arms out to grab at her face. She scrunches her nose and laughs, turning her head to break free from his surprisingly strong grip on her cheeks. She catches Finnick’s eye and smiles, blushing again at the look of adoration in his eyes.

On mornings like this, with nothing to do but relax with her son and her arms and her husband by her side, she almost has to pinch herself to know she isn’t dreaming. After the Games she had put away her dreams of raising a family, knowing she could never subject a child to the reaping, could never survive the fear that their name would be called just as hers was. With Finnick, she knew she would always want to be with him, but feared he would be taken from her, punished for loving her.

She spent so much time fighting - fighting the Capitol, the arena, her own mind - that she thought that was how her life would always be, grasping at brief moments of happiness before the weight of everything threatened to pull her under. But holding Adrian in her arms, getting to live freely with Finnick without worrying about when he’ll have to go and if he’ll come back the same, she doesn’t have to fight as hard to hold on to the good things. It’s still not easy, and she still has bad days where she feels herself sinking, but between Finnick and Adrian it’s becoming easier to find her way back, fighting through the rushing water and knowing her family is there on the other side.

\--

_Annie squints against the light, trying to place what is different about it. It’s not the sun, she knows that. She can’t remember the last time she saw the sun. But it’s not the light of her cell, she knows that too. It’s more yellow, dimmer, like the bulb needs replacing. Not like the blinding white light in her cell that illuminates the bare walls and makes it seem like it's always day time. That’s something else that’s different, the walls aren’t as white, they’re dingier, not the pristine trappings of the Capitol but something neglected._

_She closes her eyes again and tries to return to her dream. She had been sitting on the beach, listening to the waves crash on the shore. The sun was warm on her face and when she turned to the side she could see someone walking towards her, but she couldn’t see who it was. She knew it was someone important. If she could just get back to the dream, she’d find out._

_She feels hands pulling at her arms and she whimpers, halfheartedly pulling her arm away and anticipating the sharp sting of electricity that would follow. Sounds try to reach her but everything is muffled and slowed down as if she’s underwater, like when she was little and would compete with Fiona to see who could hold their breath the longest. She always won. She liked it underwater. She would sit cross legged on the bottom of the ocean, opening her eyes to the sting of the salt water and watching the schools of minnows swim closer as she sat still as a statute until she breathed out a string of bubbles and sent the fish darting away. She’d break the surface, shaking water from her hair with a laugh, to see Fiona standing with her arms crossed, accusing her of cheating. She wasn’t cheating, though. She just liked it underwater._

_Hands tug at her again, still firm but gentler than usual. They haven’t shocked her yet, which confuses her. It’s always one pull, and then the shock, and then they just pick her up and shove her where she needs to go. She doesn’t bother trying to stand on her own anymore. No use wasting her energy when they’ll carry her anyway._

_She hears her name floating through the water in her ears. “Miss Cresta,” a voice calls from the surface. Annie groans. The sound of the water is getting quieter, like she’s being pulled to the surface. She starts to hear more sounds, shouts, the beeping of machines, metal slamming. No, she thinks, I can hold my breath longer. I don’t want to come up._

_“No,” she moans out loud when more hands pull her from where she was curled on her side to make her stretch out on her back. She hears too many voices and they all blur together, overwhelming her with their sound. She whimpers and presses her hands to her ears, wanting to go back under, back to her dream._

_Someone pulls her hand from her ear and pokes at the crook of her elbow with something sharp. “No,” she breathes, but she knows it’s no use. They’ll poke and prod her and shock her and do everything they can to make her talk and she’ll take it and say nothing and they’ll bring her back to her cell and then at least she’ll have some peace and quiet, trapped in that eternal daylight._

_She feels a hand on her forehead and her eyes snap open instinctively, trying to find her tormentor. Her eyes adjust to the light faster now and she makes out people in white outfits, beds with stained white curtains between them, and metal instruments laid out on tables and in boxes all around her. This is new, she thinks. She scans the room, trying to understand who all of these people are when she feels the wind knocked out of her as she spots a familiar gleam of bronze hair._

_No, she thinks to herself. This is a trick, Annie. They’re playing tricks on you again. He’s not here, he can’t be here. They can’t have him too. More bodies shift and she gets a better look at the face beneath the hair and before she can tell herself otherwise, before she can convince herself what she’s seeing isn’t real, she’s sprinting across the room._

_“Finnick!” she shrieks, pushing past people, not caring if it means she’ll be tortured more, she just needs to see for herself, needs to know if he’s real. She sees the recognition in his eyes, sees his lips form her name and then she’s crashing into him, frantically grasping at his hair, his arms, his back, running her hands over every inch of him to try and convince herself that this is real, it’s Finnick, her Finnick, and he’s here. His arms squeeze her tightly and they’re so close she thinks they might become one person and it’s still not close enough, she needs to get closer, needs to drink him in before they pull him away, before he’s taken from her again._

_Annie is vaguely aware of the cold wall at her back as she buries her face in Finnick’s neck, breathing in his smell and she doesn’t understand how but he’s really here. She feels wetness on her cheeks and realizes she’s crying, then looks up and sees his tears too, filling those beautiful eyes until they spill over. Before she can second guess herself she takes his face in her hands and brings her lips to his, feeling pieces of herself fall back into place as they kiss. They break apart, but barely, still entangled in each other and close enough to feel each other’s breath, Annie’s coming quick and shallow and Finnick’s not much calmer._

_“Annie,” he says softly, and she feels more tears come at the sound of her name on his lips._

_“Is this real?” she chokes, half-scared of what his answer will be. If this is a dream, it’s the best one she’s had in a long time. She thinks it would be okay if this was a dream, as long as she doesn’t have to wake up._

_“This is real,” he answers, stroking her hair with one hand and tightening his hold around her waist with the other. “You’re safe, Annie.” His voice breaks and he buries his face in her neck, his tears falling onto her bare skin. “You’re safe.”_

_She lets his words wash over her as she clings to him, afraid that the spell will be broken if she lets go for even one second. This is real. She’s safe. They’re safe. She doesn’t know how, or where they are, or what happened to get her here, but she knows that Finnick wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t tell her she was safe if it wasn’t true. As she feels his tears land on her skin she is suddenly aware that she is wrapped only in a sheet and that there are people all around them._

_“Finnick, where are we?” she whispers, her eyes darting around the room at the flurry of activity. People seem to pay no attention to them, for which she’s grateful._

_“District Thirteen,” he answers, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. “They’ve been here all this time.” Annie thinks she catches a hint of bitterness in his voice as she turns his words over in her mind. The room is suddenly too bright, too loud, and she shakes her head slightly, trying to clear the noise from her mind._

_“Annie,” he says gently, cupping her face in his hands. “You’re safe. I promise.”_

_She nods, using all of her strength to focus on his face. He presses a kiss to her forehead and glances across the room before looking back at her._

_“Do you want to let a doctor look at you?” he asks, still holding her tightly. Annie feels herself start to shake as she imagines being poked and prodded and looked at by strange faces with strange hands and she shudders, pulling herself closer to Finnick._

_“Will you stay?” she asks in a small voice, not sure if he can even hear her over the noise of the room._

_“Of course,” he breathes, bringing his lips to her ear. “I’m never leaving you again.”_

_Annie takes a deep breath and nods, letting Finnick take her hand and lead her over to a bed where she perches on the edge, still clinging to his side. Finnick waves over a woman whose blonde hair is pulled back from her face in a neat bun. Annie notices that she keeps her hands in front of her, as if making sure she can see them._

_“This is Clara,” Finnick whispers to Annie. “Katniss’s mother. She’s helped me a lot.”_

_“Annie,” the woman - Clara - says, still standing back from the bed. “Can I give you a quick exam? Finnick can stay,” she adds quickly, looking from Annie to Finnick and back to Annie. “If you want him to.”_

_Annie nods, not trusting her voice to stay steady if she tries to speak. If Finnick trusts this woman, she can do this. She holds Finnick’s hand tightly but moves over just enough for Clara to start her exam. It feels like it takes forever because she explains everything she is going to do before she does it and always asks twice before touching Annie, taking great care not to stand in between her and Finnick. Annie can see how much effort she’s putting in to make her feel comfortable and she decides she likes Clara. When she’s finished, she hands Annie a flimsy hospital gown and steps away, pausing to give Finnick’s shoulder a squeeze before she closes the curtain around them and disappears._

_Annie lets out a breath and curls up on the bed, pulling Finnick down next to her. The bed is so small they have to squeeze together, but she thinks they would do that anyway, neither of them wanting to have any distance between them._

_“Where have you…” she starts, trailing off before she can voice her question. She doesn’t know if she’s keeping Finnick from his own bed, somewhere more comfortable._

_“I’ve mostly been staying here in the hospital,” he admits, “The next bed over, actually.”_

_Annie processes what he’s saying and feels panic rise in her throat. Is he hurt? He must be hurt, if he’s staying in the hospital. He gently reaches out and brushes a tear from her cheek. She catches his hand and holds it tightly, needing the contact to know he won’t disappear._

_“I’m okay,” he says, answering her unspoken question. “Now that you’re here.”_

_She nods, wide eyed, and he shifts so she can lay her head on his chest. She focuses on the steady rhythm of his heart, counting each beat until her mind stops racing. He keeps his arms around her, one hand stroking her hair softly, and she feels herself being lulled into sleep only to snap her eyes open, afraid she’ll wake up back in her cell in the Capitol._

_“Annie,” he whispers gently. “You can sleep.”_

_She moves to look at him and shakes her head frantically. “I can’t,” she croaks, “you’ll be gone.” Annie stares into his eyes, green like hers but darker, like the deepest part of the ocean where mystical creatures hide. She’s seen his eyes every day since she was taken to the Capitol, sees them in her dreams, when she’s awake, but now that he’s really here in front of her she thinks if she looks away for even a second he’ll be gone forever and she won’t remember his eyes anymore._

_“I’ll stay,” he says, stroking her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”_

_“I don’t…” Annie trails off. She can’t explain it. She doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s not him she doesn’t trust, it’s herself, her own mind. She watches Finnick search her face and nod._

_“Okay,” he says simply, “I’ll stay awake with you.”_

_Annie lies down again, keeping her face level with Finnick’s so she can keep him in her sight, afraid he’ll disappear if she so much as blinks. They stay like that, watching each other, for who knows how long. She takes the time to relearn his face - his hair is longer, messier than before, and he looks more pale than she’s ever seen him. She reaches out and traces the circles under his eyes, her face creased with worry as she imagines the sleepless nights he must have had to get them. The more she watches him the more she believes he’s really there - he never stays this long in her dreams, is always pulled from her before she has the chance to hold him. Slowly, she lets her eyes grow heavy and sinks into sleep, letting herself feel safe in Finnick’s arms._

\--

“Did you talk to Clara?” Finnick asks as they walk down the lane toward Mrs. Everdeen’s house. Annie nods, shifting Adrian in her arms to hold him close to her chest. Clara had been by the house yesterday under the pretense of helping Annie prepare baby food for Adrian but Annie could tell she needed something to distract her from worrying about Katniss and Peeta’s visit. It’s the first time Clara is seeing her daughter since the end of the war and she had confided in Annie that she doesn’t know how to interact with her daughter now. 

“She’s nervous,” Annie says.

Finnick nods as Clara’s house comes into view. “I think it will be good for both of them,” he muses. 

“I hope so,” Annie replies. When she got to know Clara in District Thirteen, she recognized the deep sense of loss the other woman carried with her, the feeling at the back of her mind that it would be easier to shut herself away instead of facing the pain of each day. Since coming to District Four, she knows Clara has worked hard to keep moving forward, throwing herself into her work at the hospital and helping Annie and Finnick in any way she can. Sometimes Annie wonders if Clara ever slows down or if she fears that if she stops for one moment to consider everything she’s lost she’ll never recover. 

When Clara opens the door to invite them inside, Annie notices the strain in her smile, the way her hands flutter nervously as she fusses over Adrian and guides them into the living room where Katniss and Peeta are waiting. Annie catches her breath when she sees Katniss, looking exhausted and cautious, fiddling with her hands in a way so similar to her mother. She drags her eyes away to Peeta, who smiles carefully at her from where he stands by the fireplace. Adrian stirs in her arms, yawning loudly and drawing everyone’s attention to him instead of each other. Finnick laughs and gestures to Peeta and Katniss, beaming as he introduces them to their son.

Peeta moves closer and takes Adrian’s hand, asking Annie questions about feeding and whether he sleeps at night and what things have been like in District Four. Clara appears at Annie’s side and joins in the conversation, but Annie notices her strained glances at her daughter, who remains silent while making faces at the baby but avoiding eye contact with the rest of them. She notices Clara’s expression tighten, as if she is holding back tears, and Annie’s heart breaks seeing how much she is struggling to keep herself together.

“Have you been to the water yet?” Annie asks the visitors softly, directing her question at Katniss to try and elicit a reply. Katniss just stares straight ahead, prompting Peeta to turn to Annie with an apologetic look.

“No,” he answers, “just saw it from the window of the train.” 

“Why don’t you all go?” Clara suggests, the fake cheeriness in her voice startling Annie. “I’ll get dinner ready.” Annie watches her carefully and turns to hand Adrian to Finnick, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “You go ahead,” she says, nodding toward Clara, sure he’ll understand that she needs some space. “I’ll catch up.”

Finnick nods and leads Peeta and Katniss outside, leaving Annie and Clara alone in the house. Clara’s shoulders slump as soon as the others are out of sight and she puts her face in her hands, breathing heavily. Annie moves to place her hand on Clara’s shoulder, wanting to comfort her but feeling out of her depth. She can’t imagine the pain Clara must live with every day, first losing her husband, then her daughter, and now having her other daughter safe but haunted and always out of reach.

For a moment Annie remembers how she felt when she thought she lost Finnick, when the Capitol’s news broadcast blared that he and the others had been killed in an explosion. The sound of water had roared in her ears, sweeping her under in a current so strong that she wouldn’t have been able to fight it even if she could bring herself to try. She had floated along in the dark, shutting out the world around her and drowning in her grief. She didn’t know how much time passed between that day and the day she boarded a hovercraft to the Capitol, refusing to believe he was really alive until she held him in her arms and saw his scars with her own eyes. Annie wonders how Clara has survived living with that kind of pain for so long.

“I’m sure she just needs time,” Annie says finally.

Clara nods and straightens up, smoothing her hair back from her face. “I know,” she says in a shaky voice. “I just hope that’s enough.” 

Annie pulls her into a hug, at a loss for words for how to help her friend. Clara squeezes her tightly then pulls back, wiping her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says with a small smile. “You go on and walk with them,” she adds, waving a hand towards the door. “I’ll be all right.”

Annie hesitates, worried about leaving Clara alone.

“Really,” Clara insists, reading Annie’s expression. “I’m okay here. Besides, Finnick probably has his hands full with all of them.” She chuckles slightly and Annie relaxes, nodding.

“Okay,” Anne agrees, reaching out to squeeze Clara’s hand. “We’ll be back for dinner.” Clara nods and Annie turns to leave, stopping at the door to glance back and watch Clara take a deep breath and move into the kitchen.

Annie walks quickly to catch up to the others, leaning in to give Adrian a kiss and feeling her heart swell when he reaches for her. When they get to the beach, she takes their son from Finnick and whispers in his ear for him to talk to Katniss, stealing a glance at the other woman as she stands to the side, looking lost. Finnick nods and Annie turns to walk along the sand, holding Adrian close and bouncing him as she walks, laughing when he kicks his feet as if he’s trying to propel them towards the ocean.

She hears footsteps and turns to see Peeta walking towards her, his hands in his pockets as he kicks up sand with his shoes. She never understands people who wear shoes on the beach. She doesn’t like to wear shoes anywhere, but especially on the beach, preferring the feeling of sand under her toes. Finnick once told her it was one of the first things he noticed about her, that she kicked off her shoes as soon as they got on the train after the reaping. 

“It feels nicer if you take your shoes off,” she calls before she can stop herself. Peeta stops walking, as if he forgot she was there, and laughs slightly, leaning down to remove his shoes and socks and leave them in the sand. Annie turns away awkwardly, focusing on Adrian as he struggles in her arms, wanting to be in the water.

She doesn’t know what to make of Peeta, this boy who was once so full of life and hope and love and then had it all beaten out of him so he could be turned into a weapon to kill the person he loved most. She tries not to think about what would have happened if they had tried to do the same to her in the Capitol. Annie knows they were in Thirteen together, but she doesn’t remember a lot of her time there. She knows Peeta made their wedding cake, that beautiful frosted creation that was almost too beautiful for the dim industrial look of District Thirteen. She knows some of what happened after Finnick and Peeta left, too. She knows Peeta snapped, tried to hurt people, maybe did hurt people, knows Finnick tried to help him. The way Finnick talks about Peeta, Annie wonders if she has more in common with him than she realizes. Two people, broken by the Capitol because they dared to love someone out loud. Suddenly overwhelmed, Annie holds Adrian tightly and shakes her head, focusing on her son in her arms and breathing deeply, inhaling the smell of the ocean air and that scent she can only describe as Adrian, something perfect and sweet that calms her instantly.

She hears Peeta before she sees him, moving through the waves with an uncertain tread, like he’s afraid he’ll get swept away. He stops next to her and Adrian but stands a few feet away and she wonders if the distance is for his comfort or hers. She looks back at Adrian, who kicks his legs in her arms as if trying to swim. She lowers him down so his feet graze the water, laughing when he kicks faster, shrieking as the water splashes around him. Annie hears Peeta chuckle beside her and shoots him a small smile.

“Annie, I wanted to tell you I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, meeting her gaze quickly before lowering his eyes to watch the waves move over his feet.

“For what?” she asks, confused.

“Back in Thirteen,” Peeta starts, then squeezes his eyes shut and inhales a sharp breath. He breathes out slowly and Annie watches his shoulders relax as he opens his eyes and looks at her with an expression she can’t place - sadness? Regret? “Back in Thirteen,” he repeats, his voice getting stronger, “I would say things that set you off.” Annie looks down at Adrian and notices the way the light makes his bronze hair shine.

“I’m sorry I did that,” Peeta says softly. She looks back at him and sees a flash of the boy she only saw on TV before, the boy who seemed too good for the Games, who she worried would be chewed up and spit out by the Capitol so much that he’d never have that honest, trusting look in his eyes again. She sees a trace of that look, but it’s been hardened by what he’s been through. He certainly won’t trust so easily again. She can understand that.

“Thank you,” she says carefully. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I didn't,” he confirms, “But I still hurt you.”

Annie looks at him sadly. “They hurt you more.”

Peeta doesn’t answer, just grimaces and focuses intently on the horizon. Annie bounces Adrian in the waves, giving Peeta some time before she speaks again.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she tells him. “They knew they could hurt you enough that you’d hurt people for them.” Peeta fiddles with his hands, not meeting Annie’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault,” she repeats softly.

When he looks up, she sees tears pooling in his eyes, making them an even brighter blue. She is stunned by how young he looks - he’s still a child, even more than the rest of them. Her heart aches when she thinks about how many of them had their youth stolen away, forced to grow up too fast in a world that threatened to take everything from them. 

“Sorry,” Peeta says, wiping hastily at his eyes, “and…” he hesitates. “Thank you for saying that.”

“How are you?” she asks. “Really.”

Peeta shrugs, a sad smile forming on his face. “I know what’s real most of the time now. Katniss helps. But I’m always afraid it’ll come back and I’ll hurt her again.”

Annie nods. She knows that feeling, floating through a world you don’t recognize, never knowing what is real and what’s made up, unable to find a grip on reality so you just sink into the madness, letting it fill you and take over your mind until you can’t recognize yourself. She knows how hard it is to pull yourself back to the surface. Finnick did that for her. She hopes Katniss can do that for him. 

“Being back in Twelve helps, because the Capitol couldn’t hijack all of those memories,” he continues, his voice wobbly, “but that doesn’t mean they’re good ones.” He looks down at the sand and Annie’s heart aches at the grief and loss written so plainly across his face.

“Your family?” Annie asks quietly, already knowing the answer. 

“Gone,” he says, his eyes studying the floor. “Nobody has seen or heard from them. Safe to assume…” he trails off and she hears the pain in his voice.

“Mine too,” she says suddenly, surprising herself. “My sister,” she elaborates at the questioning look in Peeta’s eyes. “And my niece.”

Peeta nods and doesn’t ask her any more. She hasn’t talked about Fiona and Molly with anyone other than Finnick. She can tell Clara has wondered, but she hasn’t asked. She can’t explain it, but she feels like if she talks about them with more people it’ll mean they’re really gone. If she doesn’t say it out loud, doesn’t explain, maybe they could still find their way home.

She lifts Adrian back into her arms and holds him close, feeling a pang of longing for him to meet his aunt and cousin. For a moment she imagines it, Molly holding her son’s hand as they walk in the water, picking up seashells for him and showing him where to find hermit crabs in the tide pools. Feeling a lump in her throat, she moves back from the water and picks a dry spot on the sand to sit, settling Adrian to sit in her lap with his feet in the sand. Peeta follows, moving closer than he’d been in the water but still leaving space between them. He starts building up piles of sand, molding it into towers and shapes and holding it up for Adrian to smash, his eyes twinkling when the baby laughs and claps his hands. 

“You’re good with him,” she comments, smiling at Adrian’s joy.

“I like kids,” he says, “I was the youngest in my family and always wanted a younger sibling.” 

She smiles and almost asks him if he wants children of his own, but stops herself, knowing that question is not an easy one to answer when you’re a former victor trying to piece your life back together. Annie looks up and sees Peeta gazing back at the rocks further up the beach where Finnick and Katniss sit.

“Clara thought Finnick might be able to help her,” Annie says quietly, nodding toward the two of them. “He’s been through a lot,” she adds, feeling tears pool in her eyes the way they do any time she thinks of everything Finnick had to endure for the last ten years.

“Katniss told me some of it,” Peeta says, looking guilty. “Just what he talked about that night,” he clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably, “that night they came for us.”

Annie nods. Finnick had told her what he did a few days after she arrived in Thirteen. He’d whispered it to her as they lay in a hospital bed, both of them fighting tears as he explained how he helped keep the Capitol’s attention away from the rescue mission. Her heart broke for him, sharing his deepest shame for a ravenous audience, hoping it would be enough to save her. He was always trying to protect her, ever since the reaping.

“Did you know?” Peeta asks.

Annie nods, not trusting herself to speak.

“I’m sorry I misjudged him,” Peeta says sincerely. Annie looks at him and sees an earnestness in his blue eyes.

She smiles sadly. “Most people did.” It always made her so angry to hear the whispers around District Four, calling him a player, a traitor, a Capitol lapdog. Whispers that she was bringing herself down by being with him, that he would grow tired of her and cast her aside, that he was just taking advantage of the poor crazy girl. They thought they knew him, thought they knew about their relationship, and it angered her. She wanted to scream at them that they didn’t know anything, they didn’t deserve to know Finnick, that he was miles better than any of them would ever be. 

“Although I did have a feeling my judgment was wrong when he saved my life,” Peeta says wryly. 

Annie lets out a surprised laugh. “He does that,” she says thoughtfully. She knows Finnick focuses on the people he harmed, that he shoulders the burden of so many lives lost. She wishes he’d see how many lives he’s saved, how many people get to live and see their future because of him. 

“How did you two get together?” Peeta asks curiously. 

“He was my mentor,” Annie answers. “After the Games I assumed we would go our separate ways, but…” she trails off, a faint smile on her face. “He was always there,” she says simply, thinking back to those weeks after the Games when Finnick always appeared at her side, sometimes without her even noticing. He made her feel safe when she thought she never would again, when she felt the water rising every time she closed her eyes. He has always been the calm at the center of her storm, a lighthouse reminding her to keep her eyes on the horizon, telling her to swim, and he did all of that while fighting so many of his own battles.

“You seem happy,” Peeta observes. 

Annie smiles, feeling warmth pool in her chest. She hugs Adrian close and kisses his head. “We are,” she says, and she means it. “And sometimes we’re not.” She shrugs. They both still have scars, wounds that won't heal so quickly, but they have each other to get through the bad days. “But we’re working on it.” Peeta nods, a distracted look on his face as he glances over to where Finnick and Katniss sit.

“How are you and Katniss?” she asks. 

“It’s complicated,” he says with a sad smile. “With everything… I don’t trust myself around her.” He pauses and she sees a flash of guilt cross his face. “And I don’t think she trusts me yet.” 

“Give yourselves time,” Annie says gently. She knows how hard it can be to trust someone else when you aren’t even sure of your own mind. It seems strange, relying on time to heal their wounds when she’s used to never having enough time, always feeling it slip away like sand through her fingertips. 

“I know,” Peeta says, looking over at her. “We have plenty of it, don’t we?”

Annie smiles and nods, hugging her son close to her chest and picturing his future stretching ahead of them like the vast expanse of ocean. “We do now,” she says, kissing the top of Adrian’s head.

They sit and watch the tide move closer as Adrian plays in the sand, delighting in throwing handfuls of it into the air and letting it fall down over him. As the sun begins to set Annie stands, lifting her son into her arms, and leads them back up the beach toward Finnick and Katniss. She greets Finnick with a soft kiss on the cheek and takes his hand, shifting Adrian to hold him with her other arm. Finnick smiles at her and squeezes her hand, and they let Katniss and Peeta lead the way back to Clara’s house. 

As they walk, Annie thinks about time, remembering that she used to wish she could stop time during moments like this when she felt happy and safe, knowing the feeling could be gone as quickly as it appeared. Now, with her son in her arms and her husband at her side, she lets herself bask in the moment, unhurried, knowing the next moment will be just as good.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! It was a lot of fun getting into Annie's head. If you've been reading the multi-chapter fic, the final chapter is up next! I probably won't post until next weekend, I'm still putting finishing touches on it and it's hard for me to post during the week.


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